Aeon of silence
by Xeriana
Summary: What will you do when everything has forsaken you, when you have no one? Between the fine line of hate and love will Zevran find his retribution?
1. Branded heart

**_AN: This is the sequel to "Everlasting Hope". New readers are very much welcome. You will maybe be a bit confused in the beginning but you will easily be able to follow this. _**

**_This is the ONLY chapter I will post before my vacation (I'm trying to hold on to that, with the exams hovering over me.) Seriously I can't stop writing. I thought it would take longer for me to start this, oh well. Surprise!_**

**_I would love to hear what you thought of this piece, because I don't feel that confident about my portray on Zevran._**

"_Now far I am from you, before my fire alone,  
And read again the hours that so silently have gone,  
And it seems that eighty years beneath my feet did glide,  
That I am old as winter, that maybe you have died" - past shadows, agathodaimon_

"Good, good. Now do the same movement again with more speed." Zevran grinned at the young boy.  
He grunted and attacked the assassin with his small wooden daggers. The young boy, even called Akilles had learned some of the assassin techniques, Zevran have picked up so long ago. He was becoming quite good. They were circling each other, eyes focused. Zevran swirled with his dagger and popped behind the boy. He knocked him in the back of his head with the handle of his dagger. Akilles groaned and fell to the muddy ground. Zevran sniggered at him;

"You do know, having total focus about your environment will grant you some benefits."  
"You cheated. Its not fair!" Akilles whined back at him.  
"All is fair in war, and nothing is outside of it - the sooner you learn that, the better. You will say this to an enemy as well? I have a tingling feeling that neither people or darkspawn will heed that call."  
"Oh, ha-ha." Akilles stood up, and siphoned the mud of with his long pale hand and shook his arms in attempt to get the remaining stains from his leather armor.  
A thunder could be heard over the training compound. Zevran looked up in the sky and fell cold drop slide gracefully down his cheeks as the rain intensified.

"That's enough for today." He said, and chuckled when he saw a scowling Akilles sending him murdering glances for dirtying him down.  
"Thank you for the training. And really – thank you ever so much for getting me to look my best for the wedding. What is she going to think of me now?"

Zevran let out a soft sigh and turned away to head back in his barrack.

"Tsk, tsk. Then you have to be sharp with your tongue."

"Are you coming? I know you are a friend of the king, and there are probably going to be some fine noblewoman that would love getting your devoted attention." He emphasized on the last part.  
"No. Weddings do not tend to end well when I'm around." He replied coldly.

"Not even for the ladies?" The man winked.

A humorless chuckle escaped his lips;  
"Not even for them."  
"Your loss." He said, and with that he walked off.

Zevran remained by the fences, fixing with the already done ropes as giving him a distraction. Weddings...he shook his head, and glided slowly to his barrack. The weather was growing furiously and the rain felt like cold coins with thorns being thrown around his face. And yet, the pain of the whips of water didn't register in his brain. It never did since she left him over two years ago...He could remember everything from that day clear as the moment he was in now. The smell, the touch, the feelings – all of it was there, embedded deep in his chest, only to last as a memory. He could still sense her dying in his arms....

He hated that everyday he thought about that night. What he could have done differently...In his dreams, in his scenarios, she had lived – because he saved her. Every night that had gone by since she passed, he had saved her in numerous of ways, one more unlikely then the other. Because he was the man he had promised to be for her in those dreams. But when he woke up...everything swept back to reality harsh as a lightning. The feeling was like a hard stab with a poisonous dagger going through his every fibre, and crunching his remaining sanity. A feeling worse then the deepest of betrayal. And every morning he had to live with the admission, that he...did not save or hold on to his promise, like with Rinna. It hadn't been under the same circumstances – but the feelings were the mutual. Agonizing...He would never forgive himself for letting it happen again, for falling in love like a puppy eyed doll, for causing her so much grief. She had now slipped out from his grasp, never to be caught again. She was finally free. He had seen her smile of relief washing over her before he had closed his eyes and kissed her departing soul goodbye.

_He was holding her life-less body tightly in his arms. Tears were running gracefully like glistening crystals and landed on her pale, blood freckled face. Her eyes were open and the green light within __them were gone and lost, never to be lit again. His emerald dream, the eyes flashing for the desire of justice. The eyes containing a world of its own. A dream world. Now there was no life, no spirit, nothing to be found in them except of a remembrance of what used to be. He was numb. He was stunned. He was surely dreaming of this. It all had felt...as faraway reality could be. Nothing was right anymore, what was the point of everything, if all that you care about gets taken from you?_

_"How is she?" Alistiar had asked when he came back panting with half of his group. Blood was seen over his attire, but no one cared. The child was not with him, and they could only assume where she was. No one had answered and Zevran hadn't accepted what happened and he was still nuzzled deep in her cold neck. He could hear Alistair walking over to him and stopped behind him. He hadn't said anything and he fell to his knees in the corner of the room and screamed out his own shared agony. Morrigan had been standing with Aerin far back and watched the scenery play. Her eyebrows furrowed and her lips tightened._

_She still smelled like her, the rosy scent was still crested in her tarnished skin. He was inhaling her fragrance as much he could, he would never forget the scent that was always radiating from her. His eyes were deep in the dark depth of nothingness. No expression. Sceneries played through his mind where she would wake up, find her child and live happily ever after – not based on the facts lying in his arms as an evidence of that will never happen. It now struck him when he pulled an inch away and looked at her empty eyes, how dirty she was. He started to wipe of the blood that had dried on her face. She deserved to be natural self; Beautiful, the goddess, his goddess of despair, pain and love. The pain of the black hole that will forever haunt him until his last day._

_The smile on her lips were still there, branded into her forever young skin. The smile of release, the smile of joy, the smile of comfort – the smile he had never given her reason to feel when she was alive. He had only given her sorrow and pushed her away from him. How much would he have to pay for, before he would let the regret consume him? Another crystalized tear fell down his cheek._

"_Zevran?" He could hear Alistair rasp voice talk to him after minutes that slowly passed by like a clock of aeon, the never ending rivalry put aside, but nothing made sense in his mind. She was the link to his sanity, without her, what was there for him to live for? He would never hear her speak to him again, never hear her laugh, never feel her once warm radiating touch consume his core, never again feel her supple kisses and the taste of honey embracing him._

_"The child is what's important now, Zevran. There is something..." She had been trying to say, but the last part was hoarse, her throat clogging with blood, she had been cut off and didn't have the strength to continue. Everything about her had been withering, and the crimson red river ran down from her abdomen had been flowing like the wildest sea. His hand could not stop it. His fingers had been one with the stream, adding a bit of pressure before following the same motion._

_And with the touch of Alistair's hand on his shoulder, he snapped back to reality._

_"Let go." his voice murmured and it was filled with detachment. When the assassin hadn't responded, Alistair's hand squeezed his shoulder to pull him away. He was not ready for that yet, and moved his body so Alistair's grip would let go of his flesh._

Zevran shifted uncomfortably and sensed the all familiar cold goosebumps crawling up the back of his spine. He grunted and barged his door open, slamming it shut and went to his small bed, in the far corner of the room. Since she died he hadn't been able just yet to lead another woman to the bed. It was always her echoing in his mind, and the guilt eclipsed his mortal desires. Despite his many chances, how hard he tried, he could never become the one he was before. He had to be fully detached – able to disregard or shut of his love pathetic emotions, and he was not able to do that. With Rinnas death, that had been the way of releasing the whirlwind of emotions raging within him, believing that every woman he touched was her. But now, he could not go down the same path. Rinna was the woman he murdered, the guilt echoing deeply within his core. Diana had been the woman he let slip away. The two women that had been able to locate his black spot for a heart through the maze he had put up.

Time had been elapsing so fast, and Zevran had been in the middle of numb of reality. While he could remember holding her body so tight to him, he could have sworn she would go through him, everything that passed beyond that had was a hurricane. He heard from Alistair that the darskspawn had retreated, back in the deep roads, and not a single attack had been spotted since the child had been born. And somewhere down there was Diana's girl of two years. He hadn't stopped thinking about that either. And even though they had been scanning the parts of the deep roads that they could go through without getting lost or stumble into an ambush, they found nothing. But he would hold on to this promise of finding her. He owed her that.

Her funeral had laid the entire capital in silence. Everyone in the city had been in shock of hearing the news of her death and the baby was gone. The day that was supposed to give Ferelden great joy instead turned out to be the most bitter day since the news of a Blight was upon them. Cries could be heard over the city, from the people she had been aiding in their time of need. It all had been to sudden and unreal.

The sky was in a sea of moving dark clouds, and the rain had been falling gently upon her tomb. He hadn't been able to touch her ever-so-white skin. She looked so peaceful, in her golden dress. The glow that once emanated from her was gone. Rose petals slid with grace from the sky before landing softly upon her divinity. Her smile was still there. The candle she had been...He had said his final goodbyes to her. His eyes dry like the dessert. No more tears could be found in his amber eyes. No more emotion. He was a ghost, a soul-less vessel roaming through this world with one promise of finding her child. He died with her that night.

Zevran massaged his throbbing temples, and listened to the storm raging outside the barrack. He had wanted to leave Denerim, to leave Ferelden and go back to Antiva. He didn't care about the assassins that would be waiting for him, it was now another dull bodies left at the mercy by his dagger. He would kill, kill and kill with basic instinct of survival, but he would welcome the embrace of death if it could take away the aching rotting within his heart. He was the living dead.

Alistair had visited him the night that Zevran had wanted to depart. The rivals had talked, and everything that had come to past had been forgotten. They talked about the child. Alistair found out that the archdemon had been residing within the baby girl. He had not taken the news lightly. Morrigan had still been in the city, only being next to the shaded statue of grey that would the day they are finished building it, represent two lost souls. Diana and the kings daughter. She had explained surprisingly fast how she had stayed in the city all the time, how she prevented the Orlesians to see the demon. She also explained that the templar had gotten her pregnant which ticked Alistair off since he found out that Diana had been correct about that night, especially about the part that Morrigan had removed it. Morrigan left Zevran two things - the earring and an orb. When they would go back to the deep roads for real, she would be there, she had said. She never stayed in Denerim permanently, but had been there five times in the two years that had gone by. Zevran also knew she would be at the wedding tonight - just to annoy Alistair.

The king had to marry under the pressure from the nobles and Eamon and the pressure of conceiving yet another heir to the throne. He recalled that Alistair hated the very idea. He was not over Diana, and the idea of having another woman in his bed was to much. But in the last half year, he had reluctantly agreed only because an opportunity had showed itself. The Empress of Orlais had a proposal of marrying of her daughter to Alistair. It would strengthen the unity between the two countries. Eamon had agreed, and Alistair's opinion being discarded, it had been decided. The Empress daughter Zena had just arrived two weeks before the wedding would take place and tonight the two of them were marrying in the palace.

The Orlesians had come to Denerim one month after the funeral with soldiers, mages and four Grey Wardens. A new Commander had been assigned and since Zevran was staying and needed their help to even have a chance of finding Aurelia, he asked to join as a recruiter. To train the people that wanted to join the Wardens. They had accepted him after a quick battle between him and the Commander where he easily outdone her, to her great embarrassment. It was a woman by the name Cecile leading the Wardens. With no Wardens left in Ferelden, since Alistair is the king, they had immediately started to recruit new members. To their satisfaction - many had wanted to join. Many said it was thanks to Diana that they had survived and wanted to pay their respect by being part of the Wardens. Fairy tales about the wardens had not gone unforgotten - the dark part about them had been. So now he was living outside Denerim with the new recruits and the Wardens in the compound that Alistair had built for them. Akilles is one of the new recruits. Zevran got reminded of himself in him. The thirst for proving yourself of being worth to be part of something. Difference being that Zevran never had a choice. Not that he had minded the assassin life, back then. Because so many had wanted to join, tests were made to see who were the fittest. Zevran had watched all of them. No one took his breath away - then again, what could? The more surprising part was seeing Oghren wanting to join the order. He was the first of the recruits to drink the cup, and he lived through it. It had cheered everyone up, and give more confidence about their coming survival.

All these thoughts made his head feel groggy and he paced through his room, and leaned over the table he had in his room. The only thing consisting on it was maps over the deep roads. He had tried to calculate where they had been and where they had gone with small success. Nothing new was to be marked on them and it was bugging him. Cecile had been watching the maps with him on occasions and had agreed that it as important to locate the child. He frowned over the maps and with one arm he swept them all off the table in frustration.

Maybe the wedding wouldn't be such a bad idea after all.

**AN: So did you like the start of this?**


	2. Only a Mortal

_"These wounds won't seem to heal, this pain is just too real. There's just too much that time cannot erase" - My immortal, Evanescene_

_

* * *

_

"So will you ever tell him?" Alistair jumped by the female voice standing in the doorway.

He scowled at the amused apostate witch leaning against the opening.

"What are you doing here?" He returned in a scathingly manner. He hated her with a burning heart which had increased. When he had found out what she had done in the past, he had clutched his knuckles so tight, blood dripped from them. It took every ounce of his self control to not slap her when it had been revelead. He had never hit a woman, and was never going too but the feeling had been strong. She removed his child from her. He really detested Morrigan with every fibre in his being for tricking him and then thrown away the essence growing within her like it was garbage – with no regrets. He could have had a son or a daughter by now, even if he would never be able to stand the woman giving birth to it...

"Not so very friendly are you?"  
"Oh, but you are special." He grinned

Morrigan glided in the room, and the evil grin never faltered from her face. It bothered Alistair who had watched himself in the mirror, seeing her face reflected in it was not helping. He was dressed in the golden armor that once belonged to Cailan. It felt strange feeling his half brother armor against his chest. But it was for formal purposes. It felt disrespectful to wear it in his opinion, and he did not feel an ounce comfortable.

The ceremony was over and now the feast was left. To please the nobles and look happy and content with the bitch he got for a wife. The first time he met her, he was amazed by the things covering her body. Her dress was to pink and overly done, she smelled to intensely with perfume. Somehow Alistair got reminded of the desire demons, she was beautiful but a devil resided within her. She only complained about how utterly filthy Ferelden was, how lazy the servants were. Alistair missed Diana, so much it almost broke his heart all over again...he heard something in the distant.

"So will you tell him?" She asked again. He scoffed.

"Tell who what?" being full aware of what she meant.  
"You know who I'm talking about. I never been the one to care nor pry about pathetic emotions, but he would search for her more quickly if he knew. So 'twould seem to be beneficial for everyone's needs."  
Alistair's heart pounded hard in his chest. How could she know something that only he and a dead mage knew?  
"I know you have lied to everyone, including her and to your own mind. Of course it was easy to convince yourself of the lie, was it not? You wanted to believe it so bad so you kept lying to yourself of the lies until you believed it. How very fitting and not at all surprising in fact."

The templar cheeks redden, and his hands went through his hair.

"I was there. I saw the lie you conspired. And now with two years passed have you even considered telling him the truth?"

"Why do you care so badly anyway?"  
Her lips tightened, and she replied in low tone;

"Because she was the only one who could stand me, and I never bothered about it when she was alive, but two years have passed and nothing have been done to retrieve the child."

"Aha! So this is all about you getting her back so you can steal her and runaway and complete the thing you started in Redcliffe."

"You are really stupid, have anyone told you 'tis so?"

"You have. But don't think I have a nasty comeback. Oh believe me, its time will come." He said oh-so confidently but his eyes flinched.

"I'll make sure to write you an apology somewhere in the future." She replied with sarcasm.

"He doesn't have to know. You know, I have my pride, maybe not much but enough to not do that. How will he ever be able to find out?" He whispered.

"Very well, you ignorant twat. But when he will learn of the news, you will be the one to pay the price. I doubt he will be pleased with the news. What goes around, foolish templar, comes around." and with that Morrigan strode out of the room. Alistair let out the breath he held in for so long. No one will ever know. Morrigan's words hurt a little, mostly because of her knowledge. It had been true, he believed and convinced himself every living day that it was his. Never once a thought of regret had entered his mind. Just because of jealousy and his uncatered love for her. He had been selfish and never cared to redeem it because he thought he would have her in the end of it, thanks to the lie he brewed. It had worked though, he left her and she had been heartbroken. He got her convinced of being his queen and it had been a happy start for him. She never stopped loving him though, and she had died in his arms. It was to late to confess things...he thought bitterly.

* * *

Zevran didn't drink. Foul alcohol makes you do embarrassing and idiotic things, that you would surely live to regret. It also would lower your senses and you would be the easy victim of assassination, he knew this very well when he had killed targets. Most of have been drunken fools with sober guards, making the killing at least a bit more thrilling. The smell nor the taste of it had never been appealing to him. But he needed a distraction from his usual grieving. It would surely wait for him to come back, and he wanted to escape it for a little while. Especially this night. Tomorrow it would two years since the funeral took place. He needed to clear his mind before he would visit her.

"_Every night I save you..._" He heard himself saying to an existent spirit in his dreams. It never responded. Not that he expected it to, it was a figment of his imagination.

He grimaced as he swallowed a zip of Oghren's home brewed ale. It hadn't been the most clever idea, not knowing what the little dwarf actually puts in it.

The liquor slowly burned his throat, by each gulp he forced down. He gazed the palace court. It had all been dressed in what some would say fashionable manner. Golden flags of Ferelden and Orlais were everywhere, tapestries covering the walls, flowers enchanted by the mages were on the opposite sides, making the court look so alive and filled with colors. Candles attached to chandeliers coming down from the ceiling, casting a dim glow over the stone floor. No doubt that Alistair's queen hated the gloomy, dirty Ferelden. She had no idea what beauty that could be found. He had found it, at the cost of a stinging heart. He saw them dancing in the middle of the nobles. They actually looked happy, he noticed bleakly. He also saw Akilles with his new found girl. He chuckled when he still saw mud spots on his leather armor. Apparently changing clothes had not entered that mans mind. And he saw her brother Fergus dancing with his newly wedded wife as well. When he got the news of Diana's death, he got comfort from an servant woman. This had upset everyone within the noble crest. Alistair had praised the couple and said time for change is nearing, and said if they feel happy, they can marry. And so they did to many people greatly annoyance and to the loss of favor to the king. He was truly his sister. With furrowed eyebrows, another poisonous, burning feeling sank down his throat. Alistair had invited many people, it was a public event after all. This of course upset the nobles to see the poorer people come, and sharing their food and drink. Zevran scoffed at the nobles. Ignorant fools, that thinks everything is defined by your birth. At least some of them have the brain to know this is not so. A bitter laugh barked in his mind.

Another swallow; another grimace painted across his feature.

"So the elf thinks he can drink my stash, huh?" A burp came from behind him. Zevran slowly turned since the alcohol had started to work its way through his body, leaving tingling marks upon his fingertips.  
"I need to ask my little friend, how can you brew something this horrendous?"

"Its called ale, and it takes a real man to drink that." Oghren replied, sounding amused.

"Ah, you wound me." Zevran sighed. He was not in mood for sociable conversations. Oghren had made particularly fun of him a few days when they returned to Denerim with her body, because Zevran had wept when she died. The dwarf had found it odd that the elf that taunted everyone could cry. Zevran hadn't listened though, if he had, he would have feared that Oghren would be lying dead somewhere, with an pint in his hand, that just the taste of it had been a bit extra spicy. The assassin was only a mortal, and it was only so much he could take. Tears had been foreign for him, and all the blissful abilities to shut of strong emotions had been forgotten in that moment. He had lament her, and his body no longer know what tears are. It had been the first and the last time he would ever let himself be weak. For what is the life for the dead? Stop being caught in the past, he told himself. It can never do you good, but no matter how much he told his mind to stop thinking, his aching in his heart never faltered, and it brought him back to the memories and thinking.

He took yet another swig of his wooden cup. This would help against the physical pain. Distraction, distraction, distraction.

The music stopped, and Alistair bowed to his queen. Zevran saw him caught his eye and he lift the cup slightly to his lips again. It had been strange to see the lout actually smile at him.

Another sip; another shudder.

The man however was heading towards Zevran, making him sigh internally.

"Already enjoying yourself?" Alistair asked, gesturing towards the cup in the assassin's hand.

"Lovely feast, beautiful women, _marvellous_ ale." He acrimoniously sighed, and forced a smile at the last words.

"How could this be any less then an entertainment?" He continued, feeling his voice losing composure.

Somewhat his feelings and thoughts seemed less intense then before. It seems to finally to have an effect on him. The aiming to forget is working.

"how are the recruits coming along?"

"Well enough." Zevran just wanted to drink, he didn't attend to this for company, and with the alcohol now having the desired effect, he wanted to leave.

Alistair did at least show the courtesy to go away, noticing Zevran's absent behavior and moved past him to mingle in the crowd, which suited the assassin just fine.

He noticed that Oghren had gone away as well, and he pushed himself off the pillar he had been leaning on in an attempt to leave.

The raining had stopped as he walked on the muddy ground through the city to go to the compound. He breathed in the fresh smell of the rain, and felt every rushed movement he did made his body swayer and feel nauseous. Oh, now he remembered why he does not enjoy alcohol. How can people enjoy feeling this awful? When he reached the compound, he looked over at his barrack. He knew what crunching feelings would await him, and it could wait a bit longer. The most killing side of it all was his body just wanted to hold her again. The remembrance was still there, forever branded in his skin, it was easy to close his eyes and allow it to swift over. Of course he always had to come back. It almost killed his heart little by little every time he was brought back to this world. So weak. If he would meet himself, the past and the present. His former self would have laughed and cut off his throat for even saying such a thing. He didn't know love, only the mere illusion of it. How could he, Zevran ever feel the motion of love? He sighed and was so very tired of feeling this way, like a fool that you can read stories about, that you actually laughed at when you read about them. Oh yes, love is just marvelous, is it not? The poetics have clearly never felt the agony of it. He found himself staring at his new home and turned his heel, and walked down the road, and saw the perfect spot to sit down by the trees, by the river that flowed, bathed in the moonlight. How very cliché.

It didn't take long until the quietness and the smell of nature to calm him down, and with closed eyes, he could feel himself drifting to the world of dreams.

* * *

The sound of giggling turned him around and he saw her dancing by the trees, in the meadow. Moonlight did her all fairness, the fogginess wrapping around her divinity - she was not wearing any clothes, but the nebula surrounding her was her dress. Goddesses do not need to wear clothing. She was smiling so carelessly as she hid from his presence behind the tree. He could her small chuckles as he approached her. Her back was turned against him, in the thick of night. His nature had been long defeated by her, and never ceased to amaze how she still appeared so glowing. He took steps towards her, as silent he could against the damp, green grass. He could hear her anticipation growing with every breath she took. She knew he was coming, but didn't know when. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew this was a sweet delusion. How could she be? He thought when his warm hand touched the small of her cold back, tracing every inch he could touch. She felt so real, as he embraced her body with his long golden arms. He entwined his fingers and held her close to him. Her white skin, like the purest snow pressed against the contrast of his own.

She was the coldness - the moon. He was the warmth - the sun, enfolding in each other's passion. His lips only brushed the outer line of her neck, gliding like the sea, just feeling her and hearing her heavy breathing. She pressed against him, and he felt her small hands interlocking with his own. She slowly turned and faced him. Her eyes were the deep green emeralds, he had come to love. He could feel her gentle, soothing, yet an intense fire when her fingertips were sliding slowly upon his neck. Her full lips smiled at him, and it reached in the depth of her eyes. He could see the desire in them, and it boiled his blood. She was his siren, and this was his dark heaven where he could cleanse his soul.

Too long he had not felt her, to long he had chained emotions that craved for release. He ached to be enfolded by her, to feel her. Her presence, her scent was intoxicating. He could feel himself being engulfed by her rose fragrance as she met her moisturized lips against his. It was in these moments he could feel his heart ignite and feel alive. If just for a moment, he would make it last. He felt increasing burning within him, feeling her pressed against him. His arms were tracing her arms before pulling her tightly, so he could feel her against his chest. The kisses were soft and sent shivers of pleasure through his abdomen. Her ragged breathing which made her chest race aggressively against his skin. Another jolt were sent down his spine. He whispered her name upon her slight swollen lips, making their eyes connect. The amber orbs could see her emeralds stare back at him, before responding with a whisper, making him intensify their kiss. He could feel her warm up, as his hands caressed her back. Her heated, smooth skin, responding to his soft movements.

Her roaming kisses were like a spell. And in the between of their wet lips embrace and darting tongues dancing in each other's heat, he could hear her clogged moaning of pleasure. The teasing touch left her lingering goosebumps all the way up her spine. When the lips parted slightly, he saw her breathing and the dangerous smile painted on her face. He kissed her earlobe, and got another whimper from her as her hands held the back of his back, and in the middle of this intense playfulness, she arched her back in a soft moan, sending vibrations through this time-less domain he could have her all to himself, with no interruptions.

Her redden cheeks made him smile before craving yet more caresses from her divine being. He slams her against the tree, and pressed his body against her. He could call himself blissful feeling her embrace, hearing her soft moans for wanting him. He held her wrists, and felt every trace, every curve shaped on her body. He was very aware how much he needed her. All the wounds he had gathered over the years were only hers to heal. He wanted to savor her, remember every feeling he cause upon her.

He could her whisper her wanting and his name upon the departed lips. He was not the one to refuse, his hunger to feel her made him rapidly lose control. She was abandoning herself to his hovering existence, making him to dominate to her surrender. Her hands were in his hair, pulling him tightly in a deeper kiss.

"Do you want to feel me?" He whispered in the thickness of his own voice, breathing against her exposed neck, tracing kisses causing a chain reaction of a heavier breath upon another. She pulled away from his warmth, and looked at him.

"I always do, Zev." She responded with a trembling voice of wanting. Her body alive from his caresses.

And that was the words he wanted to hear, before kissing her again. He pulled her legs around him, so they could firmly be where he wanted them do be. He touched the white soft creaminess of them, before hungrily kissing her collarbone. His one hand traced her inner thigh, The other hoisting her up, teasing her even more. Her fevered eyes staring at him.

"You have to leave soon." She breathed sadly at him.

"How long?" Was all he asked, he didn't even bothered with the why's, the if's and the no's.

"Until the sun rises." She said.

"Then we will make it count until it does, yes?"

"please..." And they were tangled together, kissing with passion. His fingers reached her sensitive spot, and with a wave of pleasure swiping through her, she arched her back. She was uttermost ready for him, he felt with a smile. The wet folds were convulsing around his finger.

"Please, Zev." She said hoarsely.

He looked at her flushed face, she couldn't have looked more beautiful now, in the shimmer of the moonlight Her forehead was glistening from what he had caused her and it was aching for him to fulfill her.

He kissed along the side of her jaw line, down to her erratic jugular vein.

With a cry from her and a clogged moan, he was in her peak of celestial, and how much he had missed it. He had been in his chains of despair for too long.

He would make it last until the sun rises...


	3. The Ghost Within

AN: I'm finally done with my biggest assignment for school, an essay about sex trafficking. Not a pleasant topic to write about, but it's important to know how big it is, and that it's increasing rapidly. And now I'm wandering off topic, but I really burn for this subject, so sorry. The point is I could finish another chapter. *Proud bunny* Hope you will enjoy this.

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_"Fare thee well, little broken heart  
Downcast eyes, lifetime loneliness_

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Whatever walks in my heart will walk alone

Constant longing for the perfect soul  
Unwashed scenery forever gone

_No love left in me  
No eyes to see the heaven beside me  
My time is yet to come  
So I'll be forever yours" - Forever yours, Nightwish  
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Zevran woke up with a throbbing headache. The harsh sunlight was stinging in his newly opened eyes. He massaged his pulsating temples as he slowly tried to stand.

The alcohol was still in effect, which he had the pleasure to discover when the whirlwind of nausea hit him as he leaned back at the tree. The sweet experience of a hangover was yet a thing for him to discover, and now he had! How splendid! Another tale to tell, sadly it didn't involve anything like stories of assassinations or wooing women, only feelings no one could care less about. Nor feelings he had desire to share with anyone. Another wave of nausea hit him when he tasted the sour, bitter aftertaste of alcohol on his tongue. He brushed the leaves that had fallen upon his armour and tried focusing his searing eyes to adjust to the sun.

The sun was high set on the sky, and he could only assume it was in the afternoon somewhere. It was a bright blue day with only a few fading clouds to be seen. He reluctantly pushed himself from the tree, trying to ignore the bi-effects from the night before. He massaged a spot between the thumb an the index finger, a tip he learned at the whore house from the constant drunks that harbored there. He added pressure to it, and felt the headache fading away slowly. While just standing and massaging, he tried remembering what he had done last night. Ah, it had been the wedding of the cretin, and he remembered all the glasses he had taken. And how he had fallen asleep under this tree. He looked back at it...

"_Until the sun rises_…" He blinked his eyes. Oh, fate could not be much crueler. Had he not suffered enough, that he actually had to dream about her now, and feel a knife stabbing fresh wounds in an already twisted heart? He supposed not. This had been the first dream he had remembered with her presence. It was so vicious, feeling her body, as it was there in the world he existed in. Everything had felt so real, and the touch of her skin and fullness was still lingering, fevering upon his hands. The scent freshly embedded in his mind. And it had awoken some basic needs in his core now. He closed his eyes, and wondered if he would have had this dream if he had not let the poison consume his senses during the evening.

He growled and punched with his fist in the tree, and muttered curse words that only an Antivan could understand. He drew back his hand and saw fresh blood running down his knuckles. He unclenched and clenched his hand to see how badly hurt it had been. It stung, but it felt useful still. He needed his hand to work if he would still train the recruits.

Mierda! The recruits, Akilles had his testing today, and he was supposed to prepare him. Zevran was not used to having determined places were he needed to be, not since he left Antiva. The reckless childish boy will probably gnaw his hands out if he can't find him.

He was not that far from the compound. He could see it in the far distance and with a sigh, he headed towards it, still massaging the spot on his crimson, hurt hand.

"Ah, there you are. I was getting worried. Almost had a search party out." He had just entered the compound and saw Cecile gently greeted him with a smile. Her long straight raven hair bouncing up and down her silver Orlesian silver plate armor. Her cerulean eyes looking at him with happiness. This Commander had been a much preferred choice then the previous one. He remembered how much aching the last one had caused his Warden. He was surprised how young this one also was, a fierce and a loyal girl to her country, that wanted to put past mistakes from Orlais behind her. To show everyone that trust could be found.

"You should have seen Akilles. He was running around and screaming like an imbecile, looking for you." She rolled her eyes and then smiled warmly.

"Oh, that means I already missed the fun of his tantrum?"

"I am afraid that is so. But don't worry, I have feeling with the temper that boy has, he will have plenty more." She sighed and let out a soft chuckle looking at Zevran.

"I'm supposed to train him now, am I not?" Zevran asked and scanned the camp.

"Well, yes. His testing will be soon, and if he passes, the joining will proceed in late of night, with others that have succeeded."

"I see."

"What happened to your hand?" She asked horrified and tried taking it. He backed away from her touch, he wondered why. He usually never refused when a woman wanted to be near him, in fact he reveld in the fact when one wanted to, without his approach to begin with. She stopped and bit her lip.

"A rather tactless mistake from my side. Nothing to be feared about." He answered, and wondered why she looked so embarrassed. She just wanted to make sure that he had not been badly hurt. She nodded and said:

"I forgot to tell you, another recruit joined yesterday when you were away."

"And who is this?"

"A woman from the army, Mhairi, I think her name was. She seemed very excited about joining the Wardens and she is a good fighter, I already had an opportunity to test her. She does not need the same practice like many others here. I thought maybe to undergo the joining with her and others with the next group that will be ready, it won't be fair to the others if she takes it tonight. She has been a bit on the edge around us Orlesians like many here are." He could hear Cecile's sadness in the words spoken.

"But no matter. She couldn't wait to have more of her country men to be Grey Wardens, and I have to agree. The things that can be heard in camps sometimes about us..." her voice drifted.

"That's why it is nice to have some one that doesn't. You don't judge us as harshly as others." She continued and looked at him.

Zevran never did judge. He never judged his Warden when she had to do hard decisions, during the Blight. He knew things had to be done, that others greatly disapproved. Alas, the other things he had done to her though...

"I know outsiders are not supposed to witness the Joining, but you are a honored member of this Order now - even if you actually aren't a Warden. You have been very helpful to us. I just wondered if...you wanted to accompany us?" Her cheeks slightly flushed when she uttered the last sentence.

"My dear Cecile, I'm tempted but my presence cannot accompany you, I have another place to be tonight." It was true...He needed to visit her.

Her eyes flinched and she tried to hide her disappointment, but he could always see it clearly.

"Oh, I see. I just thought Akilles might have been glad if he passes. He considers you a brother, you know." She said.

"Is that the only reason you wanted me there?" He asked, sounding surprised. Her cheeks turned intensely red at this moment, and she mumbled something and walked off. Zevran chuckled amusingly.

He went to his barrack and noticed how angry his stomach had been. Oh, he was hungry, he had not been feeling it. He saw the thrown maps lying scattered on the ground and he carefully picked them up and placed them in order on the table.

An upset noise escaped his abdomen. He scoffed, went to his wardrobe, grabbed his two daggers and left the room and went to look for the young boy.

It did not take long for him to find him, as he saw him training against a practice wooden doll by the big campfire.

"You know, practice dolls makes the excellent targets. They literally stand there and let you do whatever you want to them." He chuckled and Akilles turned swiftly and a goofy smile plastered upon his face.

"And I would not have to train against this useless thing if you would actually be on time!" Akilles muttered.

"Well, we can't get all what we want. I'm here now."

"My testing is just about to start you know."

"Then do not waste more time."

They trained until dawn set in, and then he was called by Cecile and the other three Wardens. Zevran wished the best of luck and hoped that he would pass. He actually did not know what the test itself involved, but he would guess the boy's skill of battle. He was not allowed to visit it ironically, but he got the invitation to actually witness the joining. He wondered how she felt when she...He shook his head and went to eat something for his starved stomach. By nightfall he would go to her tomb.

He saw the statue in the distance. They put her ashes in a magnificent monument. She had not died when killing the archdemon and therefor she was buried in Denerim. A honorable memory he supposed for the people residing in the capital. He was glad for it.

The statue was finished and it was shaped with a near real image of her, all emotions swiped away, leaving it hollow, her head bowed looking at the lost child. Her feature dressed in the same model as the one she wore at her funeral. Her name was written on the polished rock by where her feet ended. The ashes were put in the marble monument, where the statue was watching over it. No words were uttered, he couldn't open his mouth to say something. Silence could sometimes be the better choice.

He stood before it, and thought how quickly time had passed, and wondered how many times he needed to visit her grave before forgiving himself for her passing. He hoped they would head out soon when more wardens have succeeded in the so called "Joining". He wondered if her child was still alive. He tried not to think to much about what could be happening to her beneath the ground, or if who she was and if she did truly possess the soul of the demon. A number of pictures flashed through his mind and he shook his head. He touched the statue and with a last glance at her stone face, he went back to camp.

It was very quiet in the compound and he saw some of the recruits sitting around the campfire, those that had not been ready to undertake their testing and joining. He ignored them completely and went to see if he could find some food somewhere. He only knew that ten out of thirty-five recruits was ready for this night.

He went to the kitchen and started to scan through the fruits and bread that lied scattered on the wooden table. He frowned when he could not find some more vegetables or meat. He guess he had to suit with simple food tonight.

"I didn't think I would find you here at this time." he heard a gloom voice say. Zevran turned and saw Cecile leaning against the door opening. She looked immensely pale and she had dark rings under her eyes. A crestfallen face was looking at him. He bode that it did not go well with the recruits and felt a bit of remorse if Akilles was lost.

She took a few steps in and closed the door behind her.

"Four did not make it. Five did not make through the testing and were sent home, but four did not..." She whispered and he could hear the soft tremble that was a warning of crying.

He could see her clutching her fists, as she sat on the edge of the table with her back faced against him.

"They all passed the test, but the joining killed them."

"If it wasn't meant to be, it wasn't. Do not dwell on it." Zevran replied, putting three pieces of bread and two apples in a basket.

She looked at him with questioning eyes, filled with remorse and revolution.

"Do you even want to know who actually made it or have you lost all your emotions?" Her tone was hard and bitter. It was his time to look at her;

"Have I shown anything that could be count as such?" He asked her.

"Akilles survived, not that you would care. I guess I can tell him to shove it from you." it was not a question, but an angry statement. He saw her standing up and headed towards the door. He frowned at her.

"I do care, you know. And I am rather relieved that he made it." He replied, his voice low.

She stopped her movement and faced him, and headed to him slowly. He knew this must have been hard upon her. To be the one in charge and lose people that have been near her for two years or little less.

"I'm not used to this. I...got appointed to be the Commander by mere luck. I thought I could handle losses by the hard training we endured in Orlais. I can't. They just died..." She was standing close to him, and he could see tears welling up in her blue eyes.

"I just felt so helpless. I just had to stand there and see them die, with an expression less face. I'm not cut out for this." She whispered.

A few years back, Zevran would have made her feel shocked and amazing by his touches and kisses. He had a suspicion that she would not turn him down if he would make some advances, he could see her tense whenever he was around her. She did not know who he was, only that he was an assassin from Antiva - joined the Grey Wardens by failure and then they died and he swore a promise to find the girl. He wondered if that had excited her because she did try asking him about Antiva or about his assassin adventures. His reply was always the same - "some other time, dear."which always left her disappointed. The only longer conversations they had shared was about the deep roads and how to set out a path to search for the baby. He never liked seeing a woman in pain though- unless it was a target of course or if they deserved it. But it was not the time to comfort, not after that dream he had. He was still a love sick fool for someone that is turned into ashes.

"Death happens." He finally said.

"I guess that's true, but I hate feeling like it is my fault that it did." Her voice seemed more distant and hollow, and he could see her tensing up.

"It was their choice to join this parade, no? So why feel guilty about their decisions?" He tried sounding soothing, which apparently helped.

"They don't know that the Joining can kill them. We can't really put that out in the recruitment tag..." She finished the sentence abruptly.

He did not know what to say to that, he only knew he would need to see Akilles in the morning. He felt it would become dangerous being with this beautiful woman to long, who wanted his attention. He is only a mortal after all, and the dream had only ignited feelings that he had a very hard time to suppress.

"Get some sleep, my dear. You need it for the morning." He moved past her. She made no attempt to hold him back and he left to head to his barrack. Once he got inside, he noticed he forgot the basket. Mierda, he did not want to face her again, but he was practically starving, and he did not enjoy that feeling. When he opened the door to head out, he saw her standing just outside with the basket, with her one fist in the air, probably to knock on the door.

"You forgot this." Her tone neutral and she handed it to him and left to go to her own room. He watched her slip into the shadows of the night.

The next morning, Zevran met up with Akilles, and congratulated him, and they were sent by Cecile to get some food supplies from Denerim since they were running short. She did not even look at him once. He could see she was all puffy and red around her eyes area and knew she must have been crying the night away. This was the first time she lost people, and he guessed she would get used to it - if this keeps up, she would not be able to continue being a strong leader.

When they were in the city, Zevran wanted to visit another shop that had recently opened, an Antivan armor shop. He was quite curious what it could contain, even though the nagging in the back of his mind told him this would not be a good idea.

So before going to the market place, they visited the shop. He could smell the heavy scent of leather and the salty sea, and the nostalgic memories was moving through his mind, and he chuckled. He did miss the time of having nothing to worry for but your life. Mourning was never easy and it was tiring.

"I wondered how long it would take for you to show up here, Arainai." He heard an accent voice say from the pay desk. Zevran knew that this was to good to be true. He recognized the bald, muscular man, and frowned;

"And I thought you had returned to Antiva, Ignacio." And he felt that he had walked right in their net.

"Well, I have some unfinished business that needs taken care off." Zevran let out a humorless laugh and felt himself being surrounded by several assassins. He could not see anyone, but they had always trained one and another to be able to know if someone planned an ambush.

"Akilles, get out of here." He muttered

"The boy can leave if he so wishes." Ignacio said.

"The more bloodshed, the more reason for the Wardens wanting to find us faster, and we can not have that, can we Zevran?" He mused at him.

"I will stay." Akilles said firmly, drawing his sword, and gazed through the shadowed shop.

"Leave. This is not your battle." Zevran whispered firmly to him. If he was correct there were around ten men in there, and Akilles had never had the pleasure of meeting the Crows, and he was not about to introduce him the only way that was available at this moment which was the certainty of his death.

Akilles was about to protest but Zevran shook his head and looked at him with determined eyes, and the man gave a quick nod and ran out of the shop. He wondered if he could hold on until someone could come to his aid.

"Master Eabrizio have wondered long and long how you survived Taliesin, since we got word of your survival. Then rumors spread all the way to Antiva about you being the Grey Warden lover. The infamous Zevran sticking to one woman. We had quite a laugh at that, whore-son." Eabrizio had been one of the higher graded assassin when Zevran had left. He could only guess how he pushed his status to master, by poison and the tip of a blade. The two of them had been friends and he wondered why he would want him for.

Yes, he would not be surprised if they thought it had been hilarious that he had stayed with the her. After all it had been true and hard to believe, although it hurt his heart a bit from hearing it from some one who would know where to aggravate him.

Ignacio chuckled and took a step forward to Zevran whom clenched his daggers. To close and he will slit his throat of, especially upon mentioning her name.

"To sad. That woman was one of a kind. Long time ago since she helped us with the simple tasks given, wonder if she ever told you. I heard she was going to being married to the king when she died. That would have been a great assessment to the nation, would it not? Ah, tragedy. And you stayed with the other Wardens. How very ironic."

"I suppose that is true. So what is the assignment to do to me?" He asked bitterly.

"Straight to the point? Ah, I suppose that its for the best. Want to do this the hard way or the easy one?"

Zevran quirked his lips to a wintery smile;

"So I guess the purpose of this is not wanting me dead?"

"No. Where would the fun be without the torture. I hope you have missed Antiva, Zevran, because that is where we are going to take you."

"Why did you wait so long?" He asked, his curiousity getting the better of him.

"Ah, we praise women and beauty to, so leaving your to your mourning seemed appropiate until now."

"Marvellous." Zevran muttered.

The assassin knew this battle was lost, and would have a better chance of escaping when not being under the watch of ten assassins, and he did not want to die, and with a hard end of the handle of the blade hit the back of his head, everything went black.

He woke up in a dark lit room, no one was there, and his hands were cuffed to chains, hanging down from the ceiling. He had not been hurt physically yet, but got quite the headache from the last blow. He blinked his eyes several times to adjust to the new room where he was, and wondered how long his body would remain scar free. He did not feel nervous or anything close to it. In fact he felt quite numb. He was just worried that he might break the promise to her about the child.

"Hi Zev." He heard a very familiar tone say in the far end of the room. His heart suddenly beat twice its speed and he had to blink many times before believing what he saw.

She was standing there leaning against the side of the wall, arms folded, in the white dress she was wearing when she died. No blood was seen upon her, no torn dress, no scars and her long blond curls hanging neatly down her shoulders and she looked at him with her emerald sad eyes.

"Di-Diana?" His voice asked weakly, barely a higher then a whisper.


End file.
